


drench yourself in words unspoken

by gidigov



Series: sledgefu week 2020 [1]
Category: The Pacific (TV)
Genre: Fix-It, Letters, M/M, Miscommunication, burgie saves the day Once Again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25551196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gidigov/pseuds/gidigov
Summary: June 22nd, 1946Merriell.Burgie gave me your address. I wish you would've done so instead, but it occurred to me that maybe you intended our relationship to be limited to our time overseas only. I thought I'd give you a chance to explain yourself.It took me a lot of courage to write to you. I hope you'll summon some of your own to write me back.Eugene
Relationships: Merriell "Snafu" Shelton/Eugene Sledge
Series: sledgefu week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851544
Comments: 8
Kudos: 29
Collections: Sledgefu Week 2020





	drench yourself in words unspoken

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is from bop of the century unwritten by natasha bedingfield. and what about it?
> 
> happy sledgefu week! heres a lil something to kick it off :')

_June 6th, 1946_

Heya Sledgehammer,

I'm sorry to hear about your father's knee. Please send him my best wishes. My grandmother had a bad hip that plagued her from as far as I can remember, but she maintained a happy and fulfilling lifestyle nonetheless. I'm sure your father will find ways to manage- and I guess it's a good thing that doctors don't need to move around all that much.

I've been helping my folks at the farm ever since I came back. You'd think that I'd like to get some rest after the hell we've been through, sit around on the porch drinking ice-cold lemonade with my feet kicked up, but I've found I actually quite enjoy spending my days out on the fields. Something about the repetitive nature of farmwork is very soothing to the mind; I find that most days I come home not even remembering what I did most of the day and just waiting to take a cold shower and fall into bed. It's a blessing to be able to escape the memories both in sleep and in work. I hope you'll find something that takes your mind off of it as well, though I admit that no method might successfully make us forget it all completely. Maybe you should go down to the market and buy yourself a few bags of seeds, make yourself a vegetable garden in the backyard. There's nothing more satisfying than seeing plants grow under your very hands. I saw an eggplant the size of my forearm yesterday!

Jay wrote to me, said that he's glad we're back stateside. I don't know if you've heard this, but he caught pneumonia and got taken off the line about two weeks before Japan surrendered (must've been all the fucking rain in Okinawa). I'm still waiting to hear from Leyden, though I suspect it'll take some time before he settles back down enough to remember to write to us. You gave him your phone number, right? Maybe I should write him and give him mine- I shudder to think of the headache trying to read an entire letter written in Bill's chicken scratch will give me. Better to have him rambling over the phone than in a letter.

Snafu called a few days ago. He had to call from a payphone since he doesn't have a landline in his place yet, so the entire time we were talking there was some jerk in the background yelling at him to wrap it up already. We didn't have much time to talk, as you can imagine. I guess I'll have to wait until he gets a landline, or maybe he'll decide that writing isn't that bad after all. Either way, it sounds like he's doing a good job going back to civilian life, says he got a job at a lumber yard and all. He sounded tired over the phone, but I can't judge him. Going back home after what we've been through isn't an easy feat at all. Oh, since you've asked for his address, I'll leave it at the bottom of the page for you.

I hope you'll feel free to tell me more about what's going on with you two, Gene. You know me well enough to know I won't judge either of you about anything. You were so close the entire time you were together; I was surprised to hear about what he did. Maybe it's just another thing about Snaf I'll never understand, but I'd be lying if I said that I approve of his actions. I hope you can talk some sense into him when I can't. It'd be such a waste if your relationship ended here. I want what's best for you both.

Love,

Burgie

P.S.: June is a good month to plant root vegetables. Potato blossoms are beautiful!

_June 22nd, 1946_

Merriell.

Burgie gave me your address. I wish you would've done so instead, but it occurred to me that maybe you intended our relationship to be limited to our time overseas only. I thought I'd give you a chance to explain yourself.

It took me a lot of courage to write to you. I hope you'll summon some of your own to write me back.

Eugene

_July 17th, 1946_

Merriell,

Since I have yet to hear back from you and I grow tired of going over what I want to say to you over and over again, I guess I'll go ahead and speak first.

~~You've hurt me~~

~~I thought you~~

I know we didn’t talk much about what we’d do when we came back home. Maybe that was a mistake on my part, I don’t know; maybe I should’ve insisted that we have an honest conversation about our future, but I was terrified of going back to Mobile where I knew nothing had changed, when I myself didn’t feel like the same person that left home all those years ago. It’s hard to return to civilian life when you know what it’s like out there and have experienced it on your own flesh. I’m sure you can relate to that. I was born and raised here, yet everything seems so foreign and unfamiliar to me now. I knew this would happen to me after we came back from Peleliu, and I spent every day trying to avoid that thought until the day I set foot back in Mobile. That was foolish of me; I know that now. But I was even more foolish for not trying to tell you how important you were (and still are) to me.

You kept me sane, Merriell. I don’t know how else to put it. I just know that if you weren’t there, I never would’ve survived. I know you know this, because I’ve told you this before, or maybe you forgot and I have to remind you. You kept me human simply by being by my side and showing me that to be human is to love, and I did love you. I still do. You can’t just throw away a love like that; it’s a fire that lives in your chest. I would’ve frozen to death in Okinawa if it wasn’t for that fire, and I almost did. I’m just lucky that you were patient enough to stick around long enough for me to remember that you promised to be there for me no matter what, and that you have a heart kind enough to make good on that promise.

I have to believe that you wouldn’t make such a promise without intending to keep it even in times of peace. I have faith in your heart, Merriell, even if you don’t. I know how courageous and loyal you are. I know you wouldn’t leave me like that without good reason, but I won’t know if you had one until you make it known to me.

I’d be lying if I said I’m not mad at you for leaving me the way you did thinking I won’t chase you. I was livid for weeks after. I’ve shed so many tears over this. So many times I’ve had to stop myself from taking the next train to New Orleans so I could find you, grab you by the shirt, and scream at you until my voice faded away. At times I vowed to forget about you the way you seem to have forgotten about me and move on, but every time I tried to convince myself to be cold it reminded me of Okinawa and the warmth you sustained in me and my resolve would crumble. I don’t want to be cold and callous again. I’ve seen what it turns me into, and it haunts and horrifies me. I’m living an everyday battle between cold and warm, and I hate that you put me in this position, and I miss you so much. Fuck you.

I’m also mad at myself for believing that we’d be able to cross this bridge when we got to it. I managed to convince myself to put off that conversation every time it came up in my mind. Maybe we’re both at fault here; I know there were moments you’ve thought of bringing it up as well but didn’t. Maybe we’re both idiots. I should’ve known that not talking about our future might lead to us not having one. Everything seems obvious in hindsight and it infuriates me. I was dumb, and I take responsibility for that, but now that I know what I should’ve said, I’m going to say it.

I want a future with you, Merriell. I want a life with you even if I’m not so sure what “living” even means anymore, but I didn’t know what it meant in the Pacific and you held my hand through it, so I know you can do it here as well. I have absolute trust in you. I’d love to live with you, I’d love to taste your famous shrimp etouffee (am I writing this right? Feels like too many E’s), even though I don’t know how my stomach will handle it; I’d love to sit with you at the end of a long day and hear about a dumb thing someone did or said at work. I’d love to fuck you early in the morning, when the rising sun makes you look like you’re made of bronze. I’d love to share a house and a bed and a life with you. I want to so much it hurts.

I used to think that you want that too. Am I a fool for thinking so?

Love,

Gene

_August 1st, 1946_

Gene.

I'm not the best at writing letters. I tried to convince myself that that's why I didn't answer your first letter, but I can't lie to myself this time. I want to stop running away from things. I'm sick of it- that might've worked for me before the war, before you, but you're right. It's not fair to you or to me.

You have to believe me when I say that I _do_ want a future with you; I did back in China and I did when we were on the boat back and I did when we boarded the train, but. I'm not sure how to explain this. I doubt myself a lot, you know, and I started to doubt myself on the train. I started thinking about you going back to your big white house with your doctor for a father and your prim and proper mama and it made me feel so fucking bad, Gene. I just kept thinking that I'm dragging you down somehow. I didn't wanna think that way, but I did. It just didn't seem right to me that you come home with some lowlife from Louisiana and smash your parents’ dreams, or yours. 

I just have this fear that I'll ruin you somehow. I drink like a fish, smoke like a chimney, I don't make a lot of money. It just feels like you deserve better than me. 

I wanted to say goodbye. I know that must've hurt you the most. Burgie almost blew my ear off when I told him about it. You just looked so peaceful for once. You remember how you used to sleep in China, you barely got through the whole night without waking up in a cold sweat. I didn't want to disturb you. Maybe I didn't want to face the consequences of what I was doing, I don't know. 

I know I fucked up. Trust me when I say it haunts me every day, and trust me when I say there isn't a day where I don't regret it. I tried to convince myself that I made the right choice for the both of us, but I can see that I didn't. What is it they say about hindsight? 

Here's the number for the phone booth next to my apartment. Maybe you can call me if you'd like. I'm free every day after four excluding the weekends. It might take me some time to answer, though. My apartment is on the first floor and the phone is right outside my kitchen window, but it's not like I can run outside in my underwear.

(Is it, like, stupid that I'm scared to hear your voice? I'm sort of scared that it'll make me pack everything and drive to Mobile.)

Yours,

Merriell

_September 8th, 1946_

Dear Burgie,

You probably guessed from the address on the envelope, but I'm in New Orleans. I cannot thank you enough for giving me Snaf's address; you've made it happen for us. If it wasn't for you we would both be miserable, and you would be miserable too by proxy.

We have a telephone in our apartment now! I'll write the number at the bottom of the page in case you want to chat sometime. I know we'd both like to hear your voice.

Things are better now, I promise. We aired a lot of our dirty laundry, said some things I won't repeat here. It's not like we're all perfect, but we've come to a mutual understanding that we should've come to ages ago. Once Merriell understood that he's not going to ruin my life simply by being in it and I understood that there are things that Merriell will tell me in his own time, we found that we can maintain some sort of balance.

I planted some potatoes and carrots last week. I hope that's not too late in the season. It'd be mighty helpful if you came for a visit and shared some of your wisdom. Our guest bedroom is always open for you. We'd be happy to see you anytime.

Love,

Gene

P.S.: Snaf sends his regards. He'd write you himself, but he accidentally hit his finger with a hammer while putting up a shelf.

P.P.S.: Seriously, thank you.

**Author's Note:**

> fear.png
> 
> u can find me on tumblr [@hoosierbi](http://www.hoosierbi.tumblr.com)


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